Across Space and Time
by Kuoleman
Summary: F!Revan wakes up after hundreds of years in stasis, fueled by the Emperor. She has to cope with loss of time, friends, and loved ones. ::Basically I can't stand the idea of Revan being a canon male, and a female Revan never being written into the SW:TOR story line. So I did it.:: Rated T for mild swears.
1. Just the start

She could not allow her thoughts to drift. She maintained her vigilance. Even one slip and he would win. He would gain access to the secrets she had held onto for so many years.

So many, many years.

How long had it been now?

'No, don't dwell on it. It'll only distract you from the task at hand... or mind.' At least after all this time Revan had kept a sense of humor.

She didn't always go by Revan. The name held so many memories, good and bad. At one point she lost them all. After regaining some semblance of her former identity She struggled whether to again don the mantle, Revan. Eventually, it became more useful to be associated with power the name held. She once again introduced herself as Revan.

But there was a time, when that was not her name. And _he_ never stuck with Revan.

_He_ thought of her as someone else. She hoped she had not lost that part of herself after all this time. But she had felt that former shadow shrivel with time and un-use. Would _he_ even recognize her anymore?

No, don't think about him, that will only bring up old emotions. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.'

She had clung to the old code, as a man drowning clung to pieces of debris. It really did not offer much buoyancy, but it was always just enough to keep treading. If nothing else, it required little mental power to recite the words over and over again. Enough to keep the Emperor at bay.

The Emperor did not like having those words pounded into his brain with fervor. It made him angry... and confused. She mentally flinched from the anger, knowing all too well what those feelings could bring out in her. But each flicker of doubt the Emperor felt, just like with everything, she did too. And she rejoiced.

He felt that too. Which often snapped him out of his confusion.

'Damn it, Revan. There is no ignorance there is knowledge. Stop getting distracted.'

There was a point where she argued against that Code. Specifically certain shades of gray associated with it. Such as love. Yes, love was an emotion. She herself had felt it. Strong enough to tear the galaxy apart for _him_. But that same love had saved her. From herself, from Revan. That love had saved the galaxy, not destroyed it. If she was being honest with herself. That love was what fueled her all these years. She had to protect _him_.

'Again, knock it off.' Don't give the Emperor any ammunition. One time, not so long ago, she had allowed her thoughts to reflect for far too long on an old friend. The Emperor plucked that out of her like a ripe fruit. He used it to his advantage. Projecting images of the friend in pain, suffering, dying even, to cause her to lose focus. She never did. But in her heart, she knew if that man, if you could call him that anymore; caught a glimpse of _him_, and used similar tactics... she would not survive.

She had to hold on.

For _Carth's_ sake.


	2. With the support of friends

There it was again. A whisper. A nudge. Strength once again poured through her. Where had it come from? This mystery played over and over again. Just when Revan thought she couldn't hold out much longer, she would feel... a presence. And hear, no feel, the words, "I'm here."

In her condition, she couldn't turn to look for the source. Though she doubted there would be anything to even see. She dared not spend too much time dwelling on it, for the same fears as thinking about Carth. But she knew that voice. She just couldn't put her finger on it. She knew it once belonged to a friend. A great friend, a leader, a confidante. For some reason when she remembered this fact, it also brought her great sadness.

It bothered Revan that she couldn't remember why. Why was she sad? Why would that voice, which had brought so much hope and strength over the years, cause tears to pool it her eyes?

Revan often felt sadness. For all the wasted years on this obsession of hers. That's what Mission had called it. She didn't understand what would cause her friend to leave all she loved, and who loved her in return. But Mission never saw Revan after one of her nightmares, or even worse... flashbacks. Carth had. He had held her night after night; when she woke screaming, sweating, and shaking. The memories of the things she had done in the past had haunted her. Those paled in comparison to the fear that overtook her when she remembered what Malak and she had discovered. As much as it pained her, she would meditate for hours to try to recover that missing part of life. The never ending feeling that she had forgotten something, something important, that she was supposed to do, drove her to masochism. She could still recall with perfect clarity the day it all came flooding back, for that was the day she left.

With her knowledge about what terrors were waiting for them all in the Unknown Regions, she could not sit idly by. The minute her mind was opened, she had made her decision. If she was honest with herself, by actively trying to recover the memories in the first place, she had long ago made up her mind. She was the only one who knew. She was the only one who could do anything. Carth obviously was deeply pained by her declaration to go back. But if anyone understood duty, it was the Admiral. Oh, how she loved that man for encouraging her to do what she had to do. But part of her deeply wished he had been selfish for once, and asked her to stay. He didn't. And so she packed what she could and took T3 and the Ebon Hawk with her.

She would never fool herself into thinking this wasn't a suicide mission. Malak and she had barely survived their first encounter with the Emperor. It could be argued, neither of them had. She hoped knowing ahead of time what to expect, would better steel herself against his influence. Revan was just as powerful then as she had been in her glory days. Maybe more so. Having gone down that path of darkness, and coming back, had taught her much. Including the fact that she never again wanted to feel that way, power or no power. Carth had taught her as well, he believed in her more than anyone. That had shielded her against the years of torture by her Sith captor, Scourge. Carth would be more than disappointed if she succumbed to the temptation encoded in her.

The first few months of her imprisonment she had hoped Bastila would find a way to track her down. Maybe use that bond she loved to blabber on and on about. But she knew being drugged had severed her connection with the Force and therefore her bond with Bastila. Unfortunately, Carth had too much faith in her to believe she had gotten herself into that sort of predicament. And it would take a lot of evidence for him to just abandon his post at the Republic. She had left Ordo with very specific orders, so wouldn't be expecting him to come to the rescue guns blazing.

Revan was on her own and had been for some time.

Except for that voice.


	3. Freedom leaves a bad taste

She sensed apprehension from the Emperor and... was that fear?

Then suddenly all connection to him was severed.

Revan dropped on her face. Her muscles refused to cooperate, they screamed in agony. Her mind felt tender and empty. Where was she? What had happened? Where was the Emperor?

"What, what have you done?" Revan asked the face that appeared standing over her.

"I freed you. You could be more grateful." The face attempted humor.

Humor, Revan remembered jokes. She used to love playing jokes and teasing. She teased Carth constantly. Why couldn't she move? Why did humor feel so foreign now? Where was Carth? He was in danger!

"But, but the Emperor. Where is he?" Revan felt incomplete, she kept trying to play the mental games she used to, keeping herself busy, her mind away from certain topics. Her playmate no longer responded. What was she supposed to be doing? Who was she now if she wasn't the Emperor's conduit?

"The Emperor? I'm not sure. We're on his trail. I was told you could help us."

"I... I _was_ helping. Don't you understand? Now that I'm not connected he'll be free to do... " Revan's mind recoiled. She knew exactly what he intended. Death. Destruction. Annihilation.

"Helping? You looked more trapped to me than anything. Have you really been like that for hundreds of years? That can't be comfortable." This reached a hand down to help Revan up.

"Hundreds? What?!" Revan's mind could not comprehend this. "No, that's not possible." She knew it had felt like years... but for centuries to have passed. How was she still alive? Does that mean...?

"You don't know what year this is?" The hand steadied her, while the face looked on in disbelief.

"I wasn't really... aware of much. I was so focused on fighting the Emperor's intrusions. I couldn't reach out past my own mind. I fought him though. I held on to certain secrets. I was able to put thoughts back in his head. Like peace. And love." Revan swayed as she thought of the consequences of her failure, now being freed. The Emperor will surely purge those thoughts quickly, without her constant influence. He would immediately recognize them as foreign. She had worked for so long and so hard to gradually add them to his existing plans and thoughts, had made them seem natural to him. Now all was lost. The peace would end.

"No peace. Peace has failed. You have not. You succeeded in not falling for these many years. You resisted the Emperor and convinced him to end the war. But now he has seen through your influence. His peace is false. He has decided to end it. He is already making his move. You must act now. You know what he will do." That voice. It was that same voice that Revan had heard, apparently for hundreds of years. Then she saw her. Her friend... Meetra Surik. 'Oh, Meetra. The Exile. My general.' At least a glowing apparition of her.

"What? What are you still doing here? You should be at peace, Meetra. This is no longer your battle." Revan felt the tears freely flow this time. Hundreds of years of repressed emotion streamed down her face.

"I will do what I can to finish what we started. I have supported you. But your strength is failing. You have forgotten too much. You have lost the will. You would not be able to resist the Emperor much longer." The Exile stated calmly.

"Oh, my friend thank you. I am so sorry. You have done enough. Please, do not fight any longer." Revan wiped her face.

"My presence will not be of much use to you now. One more word of advice. You need to remember why again. You must not succumb to the darkness. You must not despair, find the hope." And with that Meetra Surik faded. Revan bowed her head in reverence.

"I will try, for you, dear friend."

The face of her rescuer did not appear fazed by this interaction whatsoever. 'Hmm. Curious. Most people would be quite shaken by the appearance of a Force Ghost.' Revan wondered.

"We need to rendezvous with Master Oteg. He can fill you in and help. First, do you mind if I ask, who was that woman?"

Revan answered, staring at the spot where her friend had vanished, "She was a great Jedi. History remembers her as the Exile. She was a great general in the war. She saved my butt on more than one occasion and supported me when no one else would. In battle, in life, and apparently in death. She was a true friend. I will miss her."

The face nodded slowly, in thought. Then perked up. "Well, are you ready to get back into the swing?"

Revan leaned heavily as she stood up, honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to. More fighting? Hadn't she done enough? How much more could honestly be expected of her? How much had she lost? How many had she lost? Meetra... Her mind reeled, three hundred years? Everyone she knew was long gone? Everyone she loved... dust.

Remember? Why? She wanted to forget. Succumb to darkness? She could feel it creeping, like a cold rain, dripping down her head. Despair? It threatened to send the once Sith Lord it a sobbing mess.

Meetra had asked more than she might have known. Or maybe she knew exactly how difficult freedom would be.


	4. The damage has been done

Revan did not sleep for days. She had rested for centuries. She could not bring herself to waste anymore time. She had one goal and one goal alone. The destruction of the Emperor.

She did not like the part of her that missed him. He had been there in her mind; pressuring, torturing, and berating. But he was there for so long. Her mind being her own felt foreign... and empty. Her own thoughts echoed with no answer. She could allow them to freely roam over any topic she liked. It was a hard habit to break, given how much she had conditioned herself over time. But it had worked. In the end he did not gain access to her greatest secrets. Including how to bring about his downfall. She had a plan.

She meditated almost constantly. Her connection to the Force had been so faint and so damaged from the years in captivity before she even had confronted the Emperor. Scourge, had continually drugged her to suppress her use of the Force. It had worked for some time, but gradually she built up her resistance. Like a muscle that had not been used in quite some time, she slowly stretched her reach farther and farther. She built up her strength. When, with the help of Scourge, she then escaped, it came back to her quickly. Calling upon it again, it answered. After having the Emperor use her connection, and her efforts to dampen or completely sever said ties to stop him from using her, the Force now felt more like a phantom limb. She could feel pain and the feeling of something missing. But it was not coming back easily or quickly. She had to concentrate to even feel the smallest flicker that it still flowed through her. For something that once had come so easily to her, this was extremely frustrating. And put a damper on her plan.

Physically she was damaged as well. She had to train to even support her own body weight. Even though the Sith had kept her heart beating, her lungs breathing, and her mind pulsing; they had neglected taking much time in activating her muscles. She could only surmise what they thought of her. A battery. Something to be plugged in and eventually when all the power had been drained, it would be thrown away. Batteries have no use for things such as legs. The Republic had medics that were able to attach powerful muscle stimulators as soon as she joined their fleet after her rescue. It sped the process up greatly. But it still was not enough.

She sighed. For one with such an important goal and such a fool proof plan to accomplish said goal. Hobbling around her room in the Jedi Temple on Tython was not going to get her there. First things first. Strength. Power. All things the Jedi were taught to avoid. Revan knew she would need to call upon these in order to defeat the Emperor. Serenity and Peace would be no help to her cause.

She needed a light saber. Unlike some Jedi, Revan held no sentimental attachment to her weapons. They were to be used. Soon she would need to use it. She could construct one easy enough here at the Temple when she gained enough strength in the Force. She did mourn the loss of some her mods though, most were very rare and extremely powerful. Though she wondered if time had made them obsolete regardless.

The fountain in her room soothed her frayed nerves and quieted her mind. Unfortunately it had one other side effect. The reflection of the water showed the damage the Sith Emperor had done to her face when he had used his lightning. Once again she had not been successful at redirecting or absorbing the extreme power he wielded. This time, it resulted in her mask searing lines into her face, with great scars running in a geometric pattern. Revan had never been vain. She wore a mask for a reason. For intimidation, protection, and to conceal her features. Carth had told her she was beautiful and she believed him with all her heart. Others had commented on that before but she brushed if off. Revan did not use her beauty as a tool, like some women did. More often it caused the wrong kind of attention or opinion, not respect. But now, as she gazed into the pool and gently ran her fingertips along the scars, she wished that she might have appreciated what once was a full, youthful, beautiful face. Because now, she sure as hell wanted a new mask.


End file.
